Promises
by Starlit Night 67
Summary: Michael was nothing if not a caring brother, despite how badly his younger siblings managed to fuck up. When his twenty-five years on Earth are over, he promises to watch over his charge, till he simply cannot.


**Promises**

Michael, for all intents and purposes, did not like the Earth. Honestly speaking, he had no idea why it was his Father's most beloved creation.

Especially when it came to humans.

They, who were fashioned from dirt, born of free-will (His tongue positively _burned_ at the word) and were very much flawed. Which was why he, Michael, Commander of the Host, the Good Son, never understood his Father's love for the mud-monkeys. He wished he understood, though.

 _'Why, you only had to ask, My Son,'_ God replied in Michael's head, completely out of the blue.

The oldest angel was shocked.

No, not _shocked_ – he was stupefied, astounded, elated, happy and unbelievably angry all at once. This was _Father_ they were talking about; He who left heaven a long, _long_ time ago; leaving all the responsibility to Michael who had positively no idea what to do because _no, he was not a leader, and he would never be one._

 _'On the contrary,'_ God commented off-handedly, like reading minds was as simple as smiling, _'I think you were the best choice for the position, Michael,'_

Michael's patience snapped. It had been hanging for a thin thread for millennia now, and God's behavior had made it give way under pressure.

"How _dare_ you?!" Michael raged, exploding in similar likeness to a volcano. God let him. "How _dare_ you talk to me so-" The Good Son sputtered, "-so _casually_ , like nothing ever happened after what you put me through?! I want ready, Father! I was like Cassandra in Heaven – Gabriel had left; no one was listening, and everyone was so adamant on bringing upon the End of Times on Earth, I had to go with it! Why did you not even _try_ to help? You _know_ I do not – no, _cannot_ – fight Lucifer! He is my little brother! You could have _at least_ given _some_ commands to the Host!"

God smiled tersely in response. _'You need to grow up, Michael.'_ He said. _'It simply does not bode well for you all to solely depend on me, my son. Actually, I am proud of Lucifer, even though I disapprove of the reason. He is the only one who can think for himself among you. In order for you to understand my plan, you need to understand humanity. With your consent . . .?'_

The sentence was left hanging. They both knew what it implied.

It had been _forever (_ Of course, he was exaggerating) since God had talked to Michael for that long. Even if it meant dealing with the mud-monkeys, he knew that deep down, he would do as his Father asked of him.

"I accept."

 _'Good.'_ God sounded pleased. _'Finally, you shall understand, my oldest.'_

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

There were a lot of things Perseus Jackson did not like to talk about.

Namely, Andrew.

No, he didn't have a last name . . . at least, none that Percy knew of.

His older brother (in all but blood) who had died at twenty-five.

It just wasn't fair.

People survived cancer, diabetes, and the gods know how many other fatal diseases that were next to impossible to cure but Andrew just dropped dead because of a heart attack.

It shouldn't have been possible.

But it just was.

Andrew had been the one who had taken care of the Jacksons before Smelly Gabe came into the pictures. He didn't even have to . . . he just wanted to. Something about a 'special someone's request'.

Percy was forever grateful to him.

Percy had taken the earlier response for a legitimate answer. After all, he was only five. He wasn't even a brainiac like Annabeth to point out any flaws in whatever he said. Besides, Percy trusted the guy more than he trusted himself.

But sadly enough, Percy attended his first funeral (It was Andrew's) at the tender age of six. He remembered crying and bawling for the person he considered an older brother, screaming, 'Give him back!' the whole time.

Even now, he did that in his dreams – no, they were his _nightmares_.

For his entire life after, Percy had always imagined Andrew being with him. At least, that was what everyone told him.

But a gut instinct told him it was most definitely Andrew.

When he'd told that to his mother, all Percy had gotten was a sad smile and a shake of her head.

But he knew, he just _did –_ Andrew was always with him. Always.

From the time he was framed as the Lightning Thief, all the way to Gaea. Including Tartarus.

But Percy didn't dare voice it out loud. They'd all call him a lunatic. Which, to a certain extent, was perfectly true.

Even when those books about him had been released and published by one of Annabeth's brothers (Richard, probably, considering his obsession with him) and he had to account for everything in his point of view, never once did he ever mention Andrew.

Each time when he didn't tell when he could, a grateful smile was sent in his direction. And Percy always had Andrew hovering over his shoulder.

They all thought that the nightmares were all from his trip to Tartarus. They couldn't have been more wrong.

Admittedly, majority of them were, but there were other things, things which Andrew would take care of.

Whenever Percy would ask why, he would get an 'I'm hiding from my family' as a response, which didn't help him much.

He totally understood the sentiment, though.

What Percy _didn't_ understand was _why_?

Why was he hiding? Why could no one see him? Why him (Percy had no idea who he was talking about here – Andrew or himself)?

Like he'd been reading his mind, Andrew would ruffle his hair affectionately, which was part of the reason why his hair was so messy. It was not _all_ in his genes, you know.

He couldn't offer that as proof, obviously.

But still, what could he do?

He was Percy Jackson for the gods' sake!

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

Leaving his littlest brother behind was _probably_ one – Okay! _The_ most – hardest thing he had done.

Michael had always been there for him . . . until he simply wasn't.

And could Michael say that he was _so proud_ of his boy? He may not be his father, but it sure felt like it.

But he couldn't be with him any longer than he already had, lest his little brother got _too_ dependent on him. He had to withdraw, otherwise everything may go out of hand.

"Good bye, baby brother," he whispered to him, "I will see you . . . Soon enough."

Before his littlest brother could even open his mouth, Michael disappeared. It was like he never existed.

And he didn't care for anything again. His heart had practically been _splintered_ because of the betrayed look on his youngest brother's eyes.

He relinquished command of the Host to Raphael, which definitely was a bad idea, but he had nothing better. Michael had left the very same day.

And that was the day Dean Winchester had turned ten years old.

It was the day Michael had joined God in his hiding place, away from the eyes of all angels.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

Percy and Annabeth Jackson were _impressive_ would be the Understatement of the _century_.

They were completely out of the world.

Dean Winchester had never seen a guy that kind. He had never seen a girl that smart. Actually, he hadn't seen _anyone_ with the aforementioned traits in his lifetime. And he was no pushover in those terms.

He had seen many Hunters in his short and miserable life, but none as talented as those two.

They were a team – as simple as that. But they were so flawlessly interconnected and co-dependent . . . Dean couldn't put it in words. The Gigantor, the Samquatch, and the Nerd (otherwise known as one Samuel Winchester) could tell you all about it using his fancy little (Err, not so little) words, but Dean was more of a touchy-feely kind of person (no, he wasn't talking about chick-flick moments. Those were just far _too_ sappy), you know?

It was a great help in the whole Apocalypse deal. And the fact they were powerful demigods was just an added bonus.

But despite all of those advantages, they weren't able to stop Lucifer.

They had failed.

The husband and wife had often remarked and he quotes: "If this keeps going on I'm probably going to forget how many wars I've taken part in. I mean, why do the Fates hate us so much?" – Percy.

"They just do, Seaweed Brain." – Annabeth.

"Shut up, Wise Girl." – Percy.

The second the devil got a hold on Sam, everyone fell in the thousands. Massacres ravaged the Earth, the gates of Hell were held open, Demons roamed around leisurely, and other disasters occurred, leading to the inevitable Hell for a planet that the Earth was now.

Even with the Greco-Roman pantheon on their side, they had lost.

There was nothing they could do about it.

Castiel and Gabriel had been atomized by Satan himself, and the last remnants of Team Free Will was chained at the foot of his throne.

From left to right it was Percy, Annabeth (Who were holding hands, by the way), Bobby and Dean himself.

The Morning Star smiled sadistically.

"How pathetic," He sneered. It was so _odd_ seeing Sammy doing that. _This is Lucifer, Winchester. Sam's long gone. Get your act together you idiot!_ "The Heroes of Olympus, a Hunter, and _the_ Righteous man failed to stop me. I must say I expected you to put up a harder fight."

Percy spat at him defiantly. "Yeah, well that's what every big bad says when they _think_ they've won – just before they get defeated."

 _Andrew, now's the time._ Percy prayed. _Please. Just this once. I know you have your duties, but just once again. I will never ask again._

Annabeth's grey eyes blazed in a silent challenge.

Lucifer snapped his fingers. They screamed in agony, despite not a bone being out of place.

 _What was going on?_

The Devil sensed Dean's confusion because he smirked. "Their bodies are burning from the inside out, _Michael Sword_. In a few minutes, they will cease to exist. Better say goodbye now, or you won't get a chance to." He sing-songed.

 _Sorry, Percy. I'm sorry Annabeth. I wish I hadn't dragged you into this mess._

"That is enough, brother," An icy cold voice snapped as Dean heard the quiet rustle of wings. "You are going too far."

"Michael?" Lucifer and Sam said together.

"The one and only." Michael agreed.

Dean had no idea what was going on. As far as _Dean_ had been informed, _he_ was supposed to be Michael's vessel.

But apparently, the fifth oldest being in existence didn't _need_ a freaking _vessel_ , judging by Lucifer's expression.

What the Hell?

The expression was mirrored on Bobby's face.

And that was the last thing he saw before his lights went out.

He hadn't even gotten to see Michael's true face.

* * *

 **\- X -**

* * *

Dean was now a known fugitive across the States.

Sam too, was in the same condition.

The Singer Salvage had been burnt to the ground, and they'd all woken up in Percy and Annabeth's well-maintained house for demigods and hunters of all kinds.

A note was lying on his bed. Curious, Percy picked it up, and read its contents. Then he wished he hadn't.

 _Dear Percy,_

 _You should probably know who I am by now. If you don't, then – My name is Michael. I am the oldest angel in existence, who was meant to fight Lucifer. I didn't want to, though. But I did, simply for the sake of following my Father's orders. To me, disobedience was never an option. That was, until one day, Father had come to me with a proposition – Become human for five years, and see its wonders._

 _Again, since I didn't want to disappoint God, I gave my consent. It didn't mean I was willing, though. I had a hard time adjusting to you and your mother. At first, I was kind to you simply because God had asked that of me. But slowly, I came to realize that I loved you, and everything that made you,_ you – _your cute little gurgles, your bright and curious eyes that always seemed to shine with determination, how you managed to create a smile on everyone's face so easily; everything means everything. You and your mum, both._

 _I finally had understood what God had wanted from us angels. He had wanted for us to love you of our own account – not because he said so. And before my time was up, I had managed to do just that. Thank you so much for teaching me such an important lesson, little brother. If you want, instead of going to Elysium, you and Annabeth can come to Heaven – I had negotiated it with Hades, and he was more than happy about it. Here, I promise you – you won't be called for anything ever again, war or not. And I will always protect you, as I have been doing, till I simply cannot. I love you, little brother._

 _Angels are forever watching over you,_

 _Andrew._

A tear slipped from Percy's eye. Annabeth caught it, and smiled sadly. He had told her about Andrew just a day before they were caught by Lucifer's cronies.

She understood.

And she had agreed when he had proposed that they should go to Heaven instead.

Looks like he'll meet his older brother again after all.

* * *

 **Wow. I had no idea that the story would turn out like this. Oh well, I like this version better anyway.**

 **R &R**

 **Star**


End file.
